Spent part of nap time today
watching a video describing
how time past present future
are basically an illusion
that we could visualize time
as a static block in the universe
where all past present future
happens or happened all at
once and I could sense
that must be true how else
to explain the familiar feeling
of every day with this child
how their aspect resembles
myself and others as if I
already knew who they are
going to be by virtue of
knowing they arrived from
that part of myself I know
resides somewhere in this
universe as it is another way
of thinking about time is
a squiggly line atop the static
of the past as uncertainty
of a future that has not
happened unfolds in a multitude
of nows as it is when their hair
is tousled to the point of tangles
sometimes it settles simply
with a slight brushing aside
and sometimes not
Tag: NaPoWriMo
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Time Block
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Midday Walk
Drawn to wide open spaces
in the middle of the day
the sun uneclipsed
saturates the grass with green
child connects with leaves
one at a time
the soccer field manicured
remnants of autumn
obliterated to the woods
nevertheless these stains
of brown hold attraction
some standing like trees
ready for the child
to pluck like some giant
and carry as trophy
for tromping this far so big
unintentionally crunching
to brittle dust in her fingers
she hands to me as I show
how the breeze reclaims them
in a sad parabola to the ground
she moves on to the next one
-
Totally Clips
The eclipse fell
just at nap time
so our child was
not in the room
with the window
open wide to see
the crescent at
eighty seven percent
through purchased
protective lenses
however this morning
our child pointed
at a prism reflection
in the hallway
naming the colors
touching the light
then at bedtime we
played where is she
sitting on the floor
as behind my back
our child asked
where is her name
while I pretended
not to know where
our child was looking
left and right until
she emerged often
reflected in the mirror
laughing at my surprise
asking for more
I know she knows
awe is everywhere
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Paper Backs
Surprised by a box of books
from another house barely
surviving forty or fifty years
some spines hardly holding on
some with semi-psychedelic colors
illustrating imaginative renderings
of what could be waiting behind
wrapping paper for a speedy delivery
sweet pickles teaching the alphabet
with unusual animal names
some books had my name inscribed
more than once some also had
my brother’s name crossed out
these hand me downs of hands
flipping pages our child asks
to go back to a book she already
knows her pristine copy dogeared
yes but nothing compares to this
quintessence of dust and glue
even asking for pages far forward
toward the end of the book
she asks in clearest syllables go back
go back
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Mall Carousel
Took a trip to Plymouth Meeting Mall
for Mum-Mum’s birthday discovering
a circus big tent set up in the parking lot
to contrast the empty storefronts inside
children having a pizza birthday party
with games and bungee trampolines
arcades and building block experiences
providing the mall’s only livelihood
coin operated boats and school buses
just as diverting without paying for motion
and at the center the carousel
sitting silent with attendant sweeping
we started the line getting tickets to ride
soon followed by fellow families
intergenerational attraction to the spin
of highly lacquered horses rising
up and down as they went around and
around we sat at the turning wheel
in either direction even a second level
the sights lit up their faces grandmother
and child on either side of the circle
within the circles creating more and more
childlike wonder at every turn a solar
system eclipsed only by our own joy
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Pop-Pop Loves Owls
Words are flowing out like
never before in this home
child runs the hallway
announcing every architecture
says let’s play piano or blocks
make a house turn on the light
up the stairs remembers
which room was Pop-Pop’s
now it is the room for her sleep
as we lullaby and story the day
she reminds herself and me
the stuffed animals on the shelf
were Pop-Pop’s favorite
she will keep the things
we already forget we pass on
and say them aloud again
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Firmament
Lately rather than wanting
to binge watch some TV show
at night when the child is asleep
my mind has been drifting
back to the past moments
I know must have happened
the insignificant stray threads
of day to day that no one
and everyone else experiences
the things that shuffle aside
to make room for what most
needs our random access
they must have happened
otherwise how would I be
here how would any of us
descendants of mothers
pitch a path upon the earth
but then we all must disappear
like so much forgotten weather
sometimes I think eternity
peeks through those moments
knowing we aren’t listening
at the time of occurrence
but if by chance we happen
to recollect our cells such
as they were such as we are
dispersed and then collected
and then dispersed someone
else sees in reverse knowing
us as we were going to be
a figment of no one’s memory
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Best and Worst Feeling
Why is it both
the best feeling
and the worst
to see the look
of anguish if not
outright terror
on the face of
our child refusing
to be lullabied
to bed by mother
instead reaching out
to my arms in protest
only mollified when
molded into the shape
of my shoulders as
moments quieten
recounting the day
and whatever song
does not cause
a stretching neck
to say a certain no
until the sense
that whispering
the words back to bed
will be repeated
and I can let our child
down into the crib
resisting sullen sleep
until I leave the room
as mother downstairs
monitors our child
still in grainy video
fast if her figure is
identifiable at all
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When the Day Is New
Hard to believe the child hasn’t grown
up some unimaginable leap
in the overnight hours
when we hear long before the alarm
we purposely set later to recover
from the week
a voice clear as the air enunciating
syllables reverberating through
strewn blankets
stuffed animals placed like an audience
the doors and walls no match
for those lungs
every word from start to finish of the song
almost personified by changing
out of sneakers
into street shoes out of zipper sweater
into sport jacket even in tune
the song itself
personifying everything we could feel
at this solitary moment that
then repeats
almost as if to say I’ll be back again
even as one day closes another
snappy new day begins
It’s such a good feeling to know you’re alive
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A Circle Altered
I pulled our child away from running to the altar
during the supposedly solemn services of Maundy
Thursday and Good Friday but perhaps inspired
by the newly acquired aforementioned plastic eggs
besides the theological implications of unbridled
unpremeditated action displayed for the congregation
to witness at slow moments of the service a hymn
sung legato a call and response burdened by rote
our child ran to mother (the pastor) briefly before
breaking loose under the rail around and around
the circular altar as if running laps unlike the distance
she never seemed to tire only pause occasionally
glancing in my direction to know I was still there
betrayed by one small outburst of I SEE YOU
a peek a boo we still play I hope she never grows
out of and based upon our visits with Mister Rogers
who never passes up an opportunity to cover his face
and uncover again to let us know he is still there
our child paid no mind to the seated multitudes
she might have known were drawn to her activity
there is probably no such thing as pure unself-
consciousness but our child embodied the quality
creating a new liturgy of limbs in motion for the sake
of motion for when they rolled the stone away
was that not the ultimate game of peek a boo?
what is a circle for if not to find ourselves running
around occasionally pausing to admire a blossom
following the path encompassed by the center
we never quite approach except to take a wafer
prepared there for imbibing or as our child would
have it carrying out from the sanctuary with firmest
grip until finding the right moment to savor it
Joshua Keiter 